


The Stuff of Fiction

by Luthienberen



Series: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2018 [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements, Tags May Change, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 07:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: A black-mailing case leads to a secret society and more trouble than Watson and Holmes could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for July writing prompts. Prompt No.8 Descriptive Phrase. I used all eight. Set in the Granada universe pre-Reichenbach Falls, but it could probably by read as ACD.  
> [List of Words at the end.]

Watson dashed around the corner of the ramshackle building and veered into the nearest side-passage. He paused and huddled against the warehouse and took stock.

Whilst his flight had removed him from the immediate clutches of the depraved secret society, it had unfortunately plunged him into a new danger zone: alone in the unfamiliar streets of Whitechapel far from any police station he knew.

Though what the police would do in such a matter Watson did not guess.

Breathing heavily Watson glanced about in trepidation. The side passage was a narrow filthy affair, consisting of the backs of warehouses and other buildings. The stench was of butchers-meat, so he was in a part of Whitechapel which dealt in the meat trade.

A surge of hope coursed through Watson. Perhaps the overpowering smell of meat would dull the senses of his pursuers leading to performance issues in the ability to effectively scent and track him.

Yet what now? He had time, but what to do with it when he was separated from Holmes? Watson could not even court the notion of abandoning his friend to the ravenous appetites of those that they sought to destroy and who now hunted them.

He was in an area of Whitechapel not visited by other toffs, indeed one where the middle-class and upper would not dare venture without some form of disguise and possible a guide. Certainly they would have a weapon to hand.

Watson ruefully withdrew his weapon: a broken blade, shattered by one…by one crazed occult society member when Watson had raised it to defend himself.

Tucking the useless blade away just in case he could still stab an opponent with the shattered instrument, Watson debated his course of action. As he did, he heard footsteps and tensed only to jump when he heard a welcome, familiar voice.

“My Watson, you are safe. I cannot tell you how relieved I am.”

Holmes appeared at the entrance to the side-passage and ducked in to huddle next to him. A thin pale hand rested on Watson’s arm, squeezing as if to reassure the detective Watson was truly unharmed.

“Thank goodness you are safe too, Holmes. I was frantic. What shall we do now? What _can_ we do? We can hardly approach an innocent member of the public!”

Holmes chuckled, face barely visible in the distant light of a street lamp.

“Vox populi, vox dei. Do not the people have a right to know and pass judgement?”

“Either they will think us mad, or we will have a swathe of mobs attacking innocents as well as the guilty.”

Holmes nodded and squeezed his arm again.

“You are correct my fellow. _Vampires_ are hard to comprehend in this enlightened age. In any case, if it is as I suspect this secret society runs deeply throughout the fabric of this country, from the lowest den to the highest echelons of the nobility, royalty and parliament.”

Watson went cold. He did not ask Holmes if he was right, in this instance “ _Norbury”_ was unlikely to be needed – most unfortunately.

“Vampires! My mind still rebels even after what I witnessed Holmes. The rapid-fire revelations have turned my head. What shall we do for the present?”

 “Seek sanctuary in one of my bolt holes on sacred ground, for this long arduous night has been unkind on your rheumatoid arthritis – oh yes, I have noticed how you have been favouring your wounded shoulder. Once rested, we will seek counsel with my brother in the morning.”

 Relieved that Holmes had an idea for the next few hours, Watson followed his companion through the streets of Whitechapel, not fearing anymore the human denizens, but the cabal of vampires they had uncovered on a blackmailing case…and who now had marked them as their enemies.


	2. Reprieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for July writing prompts. Prompt No. 9 The Colour Purple. Either feature the colour in your work today, or indulge in some purple prose.

Holmes’ secret hiding place in Whitechapel was a small shabby room he rented. The landlady had none of Mrs Hudson’s class, but the woman was of strong character nonetheless.

Watson had been surprised to find a house not run by one of the powerful corrupt landlords who owned the lodging houses within Whitechapel and charged rates for beds that were not even fit for vermin.

The lady had greeted Holmes with a lack of surprise so clearly Holmes comings and goings were not a shock. Watson was amused that another landlady was so used to Holmes’ eccentricity that her tenant showing up in such disarray with an equally flustered companion was not even worthy of a raised eyebrow.

“The police won’t be coming?” she merely asked.

Holmes shook his head and tugged Watson past the woman who nodded in relief.

Only once they had gained the relative privacy of Holmes’ room did either man speak.

“Sit on the bed Watson. I shall fetch water from the kitchen. It is early so the fire will still be burning.”

“Of course Holmes. I’ll tend to our injuries once you return.”

Holmes smiled and darted out. Watson examined the room in his friend’s absence, fascinated to be granted a glimpse of a part of Holmes’ life that was normally kept carefully concealed.

The room held the bed Watson sat upon, with covers that were cleaner than in a lodging house. A chest against the far wall served as a repository for clothes. A tiny desk with chair, much battered, had been squeezed by the only window, to afford as much light as possible.

A footstep outside had Watson reach for his broken blade, cursing the loss of his revolver. A quick series of taps had Watson exhaling in relief and in the next breath Holmes was slipping into room with a quick smile.

His friend padded over with the bowl of water and Watson was grateful for the essential medical supplies he carried in his pockets. A life with Holmes had taught him to be prepared.

“Shirt off Holmes, I saw your winces.”

“But your shoulder,” objected Holmes.

“Nothing we can do about it for the present. At least let me tend to your wounds at least.”

Holmes didn’t look happy about it, but agreed. Carefully the detective took off his suit jacket, waistcoat, cravat and finally his shirt.

Watson winced. Bruises already purpling spotted Holmes’ left side where he had been thrown against a pillar.

Fortunately a gentle examination evidenced no broken ribs so that was a blessing. More purplish bruises extended down Holmes’ left arm but Watson did his best to bathe the arm and side in warm water and Eau de Cologne.

The fragrance helped soothe their frazzled nerves and as Watson finished cleaning scrapes and one shallow cut both men began to relax.

Holmes tended to him next. Purple bruises also graced Watson, but over his leg from where Watson had collapsed when fending off a vampire. A deep cut ran down his right forearm, where he had raised his knife which had been broken. Watson had hastily bandaged it earlier, in the first rest he had from fleeing the vampires and before Holmes found him in the side-passage.

“You must point out the vampire that did this to you Watson,” remarked Holmes with a calm that sent shivers down Watson’s spine.

He recognised that tone. It was a deceptively calm mild tone, which lured people into a false sense of security. Watson now understood better. That tone appeared whenever Watson had been hurt – not terribly, Watson frequently wondered what would occur if he was badly injured – and Holmes wished to “have words” with the assailant.

There was no use in denying Holmes either as the man was relentless when Watson was hurting.

“Of course Holmes, though with fortune that will not be until we are ready for an encounter.”

Holmes nodded and finished his work.

Dousing the candle, both men huddled on the bed, mindful of their wounds and bruises. Watson could just discern his companion’s head on the shared pillow.

“Will we be safe Holmes? And your landlady?”

“Yes Watson. While my knowledge of folklore is faint, I recall a vampire’s need for permission to enter and from my observances earlier that appears to hold true for these creatures. No doubt they are crafty and few notice how they must always ask for such permission on their first visit to a private abode. At any rate, I warned my landlady when I descended to the kitchen to close the curtains and let no one in unless already a tenant.”

“She was not suspicious?”

“No, I simply said there were ruffians close by and that was sufficient for her to be even more careful than she ordinarily is Watson.”

“Good. So we can sleep then seek Mycroft?”

“Yes Watson. Just do not forget that vampire’s name. I counted your purpling bruises and gash, not to mention your aggravated arthritis. There must be an accounting.”

Watson sighed. “Yes my dear Holmes.”

“Hmm, goodnight my dear Watson.”

Slowly they fell asleep, each to dreams filled with vampires.

**Author's Note:**

> Use one of the following in your work today. Bonus point if you use all of them!  
> • Broken blade  
> • Police station  
> • Rheumatoid arthritis  
> • Secret society  
> • Vox populi, vox dei  
> • Danger zone  
> • Performance issues  
> • Rapid fire


End file.
